


Conflagrate

by AuthenticAussie



Series: from the fires that let you live [marcoace week 2015/2016] [1]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, eVERYONE IS ALSO ALIVE BUT THIS IS 95 PERCENT ANGST SORRY, minor appearance of Thatch & Izo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 14:57:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4184154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuthenticAussie/pseuds/AuthenticAussie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are a lot of reasons to tell the people you care about the truth. </p><p>Number one is so you don't inadvertently hurt each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conflagrate

**Author's Note:**

> [warnings: minor spoilers] there are some descriptions of minor injuries that are received _in_ the fic, and also descriptions of accidental physical/emotional pain caused by the characters to their friends. Everything _does_ get resolved, however! I promise! [end]
> 
> (also this fic is alternatively known as; aha nari is back and here to mess up your happy headcanons _I'm so sorry_.)
> 
> I really wanted to finish this today, but I'm really tired so I'm making this a two/three shot, and I'll have the next one uploaded ASAP!! vuv
> 
> For marcoace week day 1 - fire

When Marco found the sail beam he was standing on slip from under him, his first instinct was to shift forms; to gain wings and escape without injury.

“ _Marco!_ ” he heard Ace call desperately, and then he felt the tight, cold grasp of sea stone brush his ankle, leaving him unable to shift. The feeling of uncontrolled weightlessness hit his stomach, and his gravity shifted as he began to fall.

He could see Ace reaching for him, lunging across the span of the wood and on reflex he tried to reach for Ace’s hand. His fingertips grazed Ace’s palm, a tiny pinprick of pain he didn’t register, and then he jolted to a stop, agony scouring quickly through his shoulder and then consistently on his forearm.

Sweat from Ace’s face dripped to Marco’s forehead as Ace struggled to pull him back to solid footing and Marco _knew_ he could shift, now, the seastone having fallen along with the marine that wielded it, but he was busy trying not to scream from pain as his flesh burnt off and then healed. It was only reflex that made Marco’s fingers tighten around Ace’s arm, only practice that crushed the agonised cry in the back of his throat.

With a grunt and a heave, Ace managed to pull him closer to the beam, and Marco forced himself to move, grabbing onto the beam and pulling himself up with his free arm. Cold air brushed his now healed flesh, but he couldn’t help but relieve the memory, finding himself unable to quash the phantom pain.  

“Ey! Marco!” he heard Thatch call from below, and Marco turned slightly so he could see Thatch dispatch another group of greenies with ease. “Are you okay?”

He was about to answer when he heard a gasp of horror from Ace’s lips, and then Ace’s hand wrapped around his wrist again, the pads of his fingers brushing where Marco had previously been burnt. The touch sent shivers racing through Marco that he easily blamed on the chill wind on his new skin, and he watched as Ace’s panicked press against Marco’s arm turned into a fascinated, curious, tracing.

“It doesn’t-,” Ace whispered, eyes wide in amazement, and Marco shoved back the urge to flinch from Ace’s hands, knowing that his brother hadn’t meant to harm him. “It doesn’t burn you?”

“I-” Marco started, trying to tell Ace that his healing had kicked in automatically, but when Ace looked at him, wonder clear on his face, Marco bit back the words and instead offered Ace a smile he knew wasn’t stable. “I guess it doesn’t.”

He could survive this, after all. It wasn’t as though he wouldn’t heal, and if he could offer Ace any sort of happiness with this than he could easily endure a little pain.

* * *

The last of the marines were easily taken care of between Thatch and Haruta, the two of them practically turning it into a game before Marco had kicked their ‘ball’ overboard and he’d been whined at. It made him snort before he’d headed below deck to check on whether the marines had taken any treasure from other crews before they’d foolishly decided to try and attack the Whitebeards.  

It would take time for all the marines to swim back aboard, and by that point the Moby Dick would be well underway, so Marco took his time going through the Marines’ files, grabbing ones he wanted to look at later and grinning when he saw that Ace’s old first mate, Jack, was going to be getting a bounty raise.  

As he made his rounds he idly rubbed at his arm, trying to get rid of the feeling of Ace’s burning hand, the prickling sensation under his skin that came with remembering every second the fire had scorched him. Maybe if he’d been in his phoenix form it wouldn’t have mattered so much; he’d long known that his bird form was relaxed in flames, eagerly curling around embers.

But as a human? Well, Marco had always been more vulnerable. Even if he couldn’t be injured by any person and then _stay_ injured without the use of seastone, Marco’s human body still healed just a fraction of a second slower than his phoenix one, and always bought more pain than if he’d been half or fully morphed.

Giving his head a sharp shake, Marco turned his attention back to the Marines’ files. He couldn’t stand around forever, lost in his thoughts, no matter how much he wanted to figure out a way to avoid Ace until he’d managed to get his reflexes under control again. The only problem with that was that he didn’t _want_ to avoid Ace. He’d done it once before, when he’d started to figure out what the fluttering twist in his stomach was, but Ace had sought him out under obviously false pretexts, and Marco had done the same until they were back to spending copious amounts of time with each other.

Boot thumps sounded outside the cabin, and then Ace was swinging around the door, his hair in a flurry and his hat dislodged from his head, swinging past his shoulder. “Hey, Marco!” he called, and Ace’s grin made Marco smile reflexively too, a common occurrence that’d started so subtly he couldn’t even remember when he’d begun. “C’mon, I wanna go show Izo.”

“Show Izo wha-?” Marco started to question, but Ace had darted into the office and snagged his wrist, tugging him persistently till he’d given in and followed after Ace to the top deck again.

Thatch and Izo were waiting for them, embroiled in a conversation (well, it seemed more like an argument, but Marco wasn’t going to comment on that for fear of being pulled into the role of peace-maker again). When Ace bounded up, though, Izo obligingly turned from Thatch, ignoring Thatch when he tried to talk again.

 “Look Izo!” Ace said as soon as he’d gotten Izo’s attention, and he called flames to his hands, turning Marco’s arm over, “I don’t burn Marco.”

Marco barely had a second before the realisation hit him, and he tried to get his hand out of Ace’s grip, a protest bubbling on his lips. Ace didn’t seem to realise, though, only preoccupied with showing off his newest discovery, and Marco could only bite back his sound of pain and try to control his flinch.

Ace’s fires lapped at his skin, burning patches through his nerves even as Marco’s own flames worked to heal the damage, and he watched in a sort of frozen shock, seeing their flames spiral together. It would almost have been beautiful, if it weren’t for the fact it was causing him such pain.

His throat felt choked by the effort it took to hold back the groan of agony, and for a fraction he closed his eyes to try and stop his own horrified fascination with watching the blue and red flames intermingle.

Suddenly, he felt hands on his chest, shoving him backwards, and he tripped over his own feet from the strength of it, landing on his ass. Cold relief flooded his body as his flames were finally able to properly heal his arm, but Marco opened his eyes when he heard Izo yell Thatch’s name.

What he first caught sight of was Ace’s shocked face, confused and frowning, but his attention was immediately drawn to Izo, hovering worriedly by Thatch’s bent head. Thatch’s tiny whimpers sent a pang of worry straight through him, and when he saw a glimpse of Thatch’s burnt red hands, Marco heaved in a hiss and clambered to his feet, trying to find one of the nurses that usually came with them on raids in case someone was gravely injured.

His scrutiny of the Marines’ ship meant he missed it when Izo whirled on Ace, rage in his gaze. “Ace, what the hell is _wrong_ with you?” Izo demanded, and Marco’s attention was dragged from searching for a nurse to Izo’s fury-white face and Ace’s terrified one.

 “I- I-” Ace stammered frantically, before trying to defend himself, “He’s the one who pushed me! I didn’t mean to burn him!”

“I’m not talking about _Thatch,_ ” Izo spat, “I’m talking about Marco. Just because his injuries don’t show up doesn’t mean they don’t hurt him! And _you_!” Izo whirled on Marco, making him quickly step back in case Izo decided to whip out his gun and shoot Marco in his rant, “What the hell were you _thinking?_ Why didn’t you tell Ace he was _hurting_ you?”

“I was-,” Ace said, his breath starting to pick up, and his eyes were wide in horror, caught on Marco’s face. “Marco, I was-?”

The nurse’s arrival interrupted Ace’s words, and in the semi-chaos that followed, Marco was able to avoid being stuck alone with Ace.  

* * *

Thatch had been confined to the infirmary with major second degree burns on his hands, which he’d protested about one the pain medication had finally kicked in. One glare from the nurses had him shutting up quickly, though, and he’d whined at Marco until he’d finally drifted to sleep. Marco was still camped out in the infirmary chair, limbs curled every which way till he could fit his body onto the seat. He didn’t feel much like sprawling out right now, and in the darkness his compact form would be easier to miss.

Marco heaved a quiet sigh, chin resting on his knee as he watched Thatch and his other injured nakama sleep, eyes half-lidded as he dozed and thought.  

He’d really messed up, this time. He’d only wanted to let Ace keep his sense of fascination, and when it’d come with a childlike sense of wonder and Ace so close to him, he’d brushed off his hesitation and buried his pain.

Marco was used to wounds; he was used to the burning sensation as his muscles and bones reformed, he was used to being able to act as a living shield for his nakama.

But being burnt? He’d almost never been burnt before, and his phoenix form usually automatically came when he exposed himself to fire. In his phoenix form bathing in fire provided him with much the same feeling as a relaxing hot spring, and it stayed at the same temperature too.

The door creaked open, louder in the silence than it had any right to be, and Marco jolted, holding his breath before he internally chastised himself for something so childish.

“Thatch?” he heard Ace call quietly in the darkness, and waited for Ace to light his finger or hand to provide himself with illumination. When Ace didn’t, however, Marco was left frowning.

 It was usually Ace’s automatic reaction to shift to fire when in the dark; judging by the muffled swear he’d just heard, Ace was remembering how much easier it was navigating in a space when he could actually see where he was going. It almost made him laugh, but he stifled the sound and watched as Ace’s dark form stumbled through the infirmary.

“Ace-” he said, about to tell him that Thatch was asleep, and had been for a little while, but Ace had already begun to talk to Thatch’s unconscious form, burying Marco’s whisper under his words.

“I messed up, Thatch.” Ace said, and Marco could see him run a hand through his hair and give a tiny, angry laugh. “I shoulda goddamn expected that but I just-!” Ace’s whole body shifted when he heaved a shaky sigh, and Marco knew he should make himself visible, should let Ace know that he was here, listening, but something held him still and he only watched as Ace continued to speak, voice a breathy whisper. “I was so _happy._ That- that I had something- special. Something special with Marco.”

 _Shit,_ Marco thought, his muscles tensing. He _really_ shouldn’t be listening to this one-sided conversation, even if Ace had come to the infirmary – a semi-public place – to have it.

He wasn’t even a hundred percent sure of his own feelings towards Ace; only that he’d long left the confusing tangle alone so he didn’t have to deal with it.

Marco knew he loved Ace’s sense of humour, and how when he smiled or laughed properly some of his freckles disappeared. He knew that he loved spending time with Ace, whether it was alone or surrounded by their other nakama, and he knew that when Ace brushed any of his exposed skin it was almost like a pleasant fire started from where they’d touched.

But that was completely different to all of his other relationships! Most of the other people he’d been attracted to had quite quickly faded from his thoughts when his affections proved unfounded, or after they’d fooled around a bit. Ace had always seemed to stay on the forethought of his mind – musings on how he could get Ace to smile, how he could get Ace to laugh-

How he could make Ace happy.

Marco bit the inside of his mouth, peeling off the skin and then feeling it heal, and tried to continue thinking without being distracted by Ace’s visage in front of him, still mumbling.

Wasn’t that the point of a relationship, though? To care about someone and want to see them happy?

 _So,_ he asked himself again _, **do**_ _I like Ace?_

What surged to the forefront of his mind wasn’t an answer, only a bitter surge like a drowning riptide; even if he _did_ like Ace, he didn’t deserve him – not after putting him through shit this afternoon and then not explaining himself afterwards.

He wasn’t even sure of what Ace’s feelings towards _him!_ That had barely been a confession, his rational mind tried to argue. Ace often enjoyed having special ‘secrets’ with the members of the crew – like how he and Thatch would sometimes cook together, or how he would patiently let Izo use him as a dressing dummy as long as Izo told him stories while he worked.

That was probably what Ace had meant, not-

Not that he’d wanted something ‘special’ in a relationship term with Marco.

Unfolding his lanky legs from the chair, Marco eased himself up, his back popping as he made plans to sneak from the infirmary before Ace had realised he’d been there.

Of course, that plan had to be completely ruined when Ace turned around and suddenly jumped back with a swear. “ _Shit!_ ” Ace cried, clutching at his heart.“M-Marco? How long have you been sitting there?”

Marco considered echoing Ace’s choice word usage, instead pushing himself from his cramped position and tucking his hands into his pockets. There was really no use lying about how long he’d been sitting there, though. Ace would’ve heard him if he’d entered the room, and Marco couldn’t have snuck in without Ace hearing _something._ “Since Thatch fell asleep, yoi.”

“Why didn’t you _say_ anything?” Ace demanded.

“Wasn’t really thinking of it,” Marco replied, because he really hadn’t been, “I was dozing when you came in.”

Marco took Ace’s silence as abashed, and headed for the door to try and escape. He should’ve just left when Ace had come in – his entire plan to stay away from Ace until everything had died down was now completely _wrecked._

Quick footsteps crossed the space between them easily, though, and Marco couldn’t help but flinch when Ace’s fingers wrapped around his wrist, tugging him back. Ace’s hand immediately left his arm, and an awkward silence hung between them.

“Look, Marco,” Ace started, breaking it, and Marco instinctively stiffened; he knew what was coming. “About this afternoon-”

 “Ace, it’s fine, yoi.” Marco mumbled, trying to stop the surge of guilt in his chest. He should have just told Ace the truth when it’d first happened, instead of trying to give Ace short-lived happiness. He knew the reason behind his irrationality, now, but god it didn’t help assuage his internal blame.    

“It’s _not,_ ” Ace spat. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me? Marco, I would never want to hurt you, and you- you _let_ me?”

“I didn’t think-,” Marco said, trying to stay calm and rational, but Ace’s mumble of _you got that right_ made irritation surge in his chest. “For god’s sake Ace, it’s _fine!_ I heal, and you were-”

“I was _what?_ ” Ace demanded when Marco didn’t finish, and Marco heaved a breath, throwing open the infirmary door and escaping into the hall. There was a moment of silence before Ace’s bootsteps resounded behind him, sharp and fast, and then Ace had yanked him around and demanded again, “I was _what?_ ”

“You looked _happy!_ ” Marco growled, pulling his arm from Ace’s grasp, “That’s the only reason I did it! Because you looked _happy_ and- and I-” His teeth sunk to the inside of his lower lip, and Marco cut himself off again, heaving another breath to stop the desperate words from spilling from his lips. “You always look happy when you’re fighting with your powers, and you use them normally like they’ve always been there, but you never smile when you do that. You have so much control and yet you frown whenever you’re not in a battle situation and use them?”

Ace froze, and Marco saw his shoulders move as he gave a sudden snort, his head shaking slowly. “I hate using my fruit outside of fighting.” Marco could see a funny curve to the twist of his mouth that half screamed to him that Ace was uncontrollably, irrefutably _angry;_ but the tone he spoke in shook with something else, something painful and something hollow. “Fire almost _killed_ us!” he burst out, and Marco tried to force his muscles to move before Ace injured himself or the _Moby Dick._ He felt frozen though, body reliving the memory of his skin blistering and vanishing under the heat from Ace’s hand. “I mean- even- even though I could protect Luffy now, I still-,” Ace’s palms flickered to fire as he stared at them, and Marco could see that the fire’s wavering isn’t just to do with its flickering form. “Dadan has _scars,_ ” Ace whispered, and his nails curled towards his palm; Marco could feel the heat from Ace’s fire even from where he stood.

 “That’s not your fault-” Marco tried to protest, but Ace’s head snapped from his hands, and Marco could see tiny embers at the corner of his eyes.

Ace’s sparks only got bigger as he shouted, “My old first mate has scars because of me! That _is_ my fault!”

“Your fruit is a _logia,_ Ace. No-one expected you to be perfect immediately.” Even as he spoke Marco could see Ace shutting down, shutting him out, and he bit the inside of his cheek to choke back the revolt of his stomach. He didn’t want to cause himself pain, wasn’t interested in forcing himself to deal with healing more burn scars, but Ace’s empty expression finally forced him to move and he lay his palms against Ace’s, quelling Ace’s fire even as he felt his palms burn. “Ace,” Marco said quietly, controlling the pain in his voice through sheer will and trying to break whatever self-hating spell had befallen Ace again, but Ace ripped his hands away immediately.  

“Fucking _hell_ Marco!” Ace cried, the sound accompanied by the glitter of tears in the corner of his eyes as he half-stumbled away. His hands brushed his hair, raking down the tanned column of his neck, and fire followed the scratches he left as he tried to calm himself down. “Don’t _do_ that!”

“It doesn’t hurt-” Marco tried to protest, but Ace cut him off with a bitter laugh.

“Stop _lying._ It’s just like Izo said. Just because it doesn’t scar you doesn’t mean it won’t hurt you.”

“Ace,” Marco said, frantically trying to figure out the words that would let him explain, “I promise you, I didn’t-,” his hand stretched out to try and draw Ace closer but-

Ace stepped away.

“Please don’t,” Ace whispered, and Marco’s hand hovered in the air for another moment more before it dropped to his side. Ace’s head moved to the side, purposely avoiding Marco, and Marco watched his shoulders move down in a silent sigh.”I’m gonna- I’m gonna go to sleep now. I’ll see you in the morning, Marco.”

Ace made to move past him, and Marco stepped out of the way, allowing Ace to pass by without them touching. Sparks curled off Ace’s shoulders, dying in the darkness as he walked down the hall, and Marco had to swallow twice before he could finally say, “Goodnight, Ace.”

Ace didn’t answer.


End file.
